it was 2am on a friday when you and walker got into your biggest fight yet. real fights weren’t your thing — normally it was stupid stuff, like who was better: batman or spiderman. harmless things. dumb arguments that ended in laughter or a kiss.

but not that night.

you both had never fought like that, everything you tried to say came out wrong, you were both angry- it was bad.

“if you’re really that unhappy, maybe we should just break up,” walker had said, and the second it left his mouth, he hated himself for it.

he didn’t mean it. not even a little. but he was hurt. frustrated. trying to protect his own heart before he gave you the chance to break it.

you went quiet, your breath caught in your throat. then you said it.

“fine. maybe we should.”

and before he could say anything else — before the silence could fix itself — you hung up the phone.

and that was it.

now it was two weeks later, and you were sitting cross-legged on your bed next to your best friend lucy. the room was quiet except for the distant hum of a fan and your occasional groan due to your stomach ache.

“do you miss him?” lucy asked, tilting her head, eyes soft with concern.

you didn’t answer right away. your hands were fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve, like maybe if you focused hard enough, your voice wouldn’t crack.

“oh, lucy…” you breathed out, eyes filling with tears. “i wish he’d texted. i wish i hadn’t hung up the phone like that. i wish— i wish he knew i’ll never forget him. not ever. not as long as i live.”

lucy reached over, resting a hand on yours.

“you should talk to him, girl,” she said, trying to smile. “i’m sure you’ll work things out.”

you gave a weak smile back, but deep down, you knew lucy didn’t get it.